The Last Page
by D Veleniet
Summary: Clara stared at him, shaking her head from side to side. "Stop it." She didn't try to hide her crying now. "Just stop," she repeated, her voice growing in volume. "Just stop!" She grabbed him by the shoulders as if to shake him. His cheery façade gone, a thousand years of sorrow shone through. "I can't."


**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to the BBC and Steven Moffat.**

***See Author's Note at end.**

"Shorter?"

Clara shook her head.

"No? Not even a little? Taller, then?"

She let out a puff of air that might've been a half-chuckle.

"You're right – taller might be a bit ridiculous for you. Ooh! More muscular?" He flexed his arms in some parody of a body builder pose.

This time she couldn't suppress a full chuckle, short-lived as it was. "Stop it."

Now the Doctor spun once, twice, letting the tails of his jacket flare out. "Limbs that actually stay in place?" He flailed his arms out as if to emphasize his point.

Clara bit her lip, trying for a smile. "Makes me more aware of mine."

"Yes, you're quite coordinated, especially when you dance. You need a better dancing partner!" He pointed at her as if he could make one materialize.

"I don't _want_…" She couldn't continue.

A shadow flickered over the Doctor's face before vanishing. "How about eyebrows?" He drew two fingers across his own as if he could darken them. "Surely you want thicker eyebrows?" His voice deepened. "More manly."

Clara closed her eyes, unable to reply.

The Doctor tapped at his face before moving down to his chin. "A different chin? You once told me I could poke someone's eye out with it if I wasn't careful."

"That wasn't me." Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat. "I was – Oswin?"

"Ah yes, Oswin." The Doctor grinned at her fondly. "You were very cheeky."

"Hadn't talked to anyone in a year - was a bit starved for interaction I suppose."

"By calling me Chin Boy?" His voice rose in mock indignation.

A real smile finally flashed across Clara's face but as soon as it hit, it wavered, fading as her features threatened to crumple altogether.

The sight of it made the Doctor swallow, averting his eyes. "I think it was the view from the eyestalk – it made it more elongated." His attempt at an affronted tone went wrong, his voice too raspy to be convincing.

Tears streamed down Clara's cheeks now, but she nodded. "Must've done," was all she could manage.

The Doctor's attempt at a smile was half-hearted at best. Then, straightening himself up, he was all of a sudden overly exuberant. "How about ginger? Not enough people appreciate ginger!" He leapt up from his spot by the console, skidding to a stop in front of her. "Eh? What do you say?"

Clara stared at him, shaking her head from side to side. "Stop it." She didn't try to hide her crying now. "Just stop," she repeated, her voice growing in volume. "Just _stop_!" She grabbed him by the shoulders as if to shake him.

His cheery façade gone, a thousand years of sorrow shone through. "I can't." His voice was soft, laden with regret.

She looked up into his face. "I don't want…" She hiccupped through her tears. "…anything to change."

The Doctor gazed at her mournfully. "I know." He pulled his lips together as though tightening them would prevent any emotions he might be feeling. "I was trying to make this easier. I was trying to be…" He grasped her hands, clasping them to his chest. "…better."

"You can't." Clara cupped his cheeks, thumbs stroking frantically. "That's the point, Doctor. You can't be." Then she flung her arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

The Doctor wrapped his arms round her, fingers of one hand clutching her head as though he could keep her there. "Just – promise me something, Clara. Promise me one thing."

Clara took a shuddering breath and clung to him a little more tightly. "What?"

His fingers caressed the back of her head, and he buried his nose in her hair. "Promise me you'll stay."

It seemed like her whole body was shaking now. "I don't…" She trailed off.

The Doctor pulled back from their embrace, both hands on her face. He held her fast, eyes blazing with desperation. "Promise me you'll stay, Clara. I can't lose you."

"Right," she shook her head in despair. "I'm just losing you."

"You're not. Different body, different face, yes, but - same man." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"How can you say that?" She sounded angry now, breaking from his grasp and taking a step back. "How can you say that when you know that's not true? I've seen all the versions of you, Doctor – you're _never_ the same man. Different body, different face, different personality. Some things, yes, basic things remain the same, but _stop_ pretending like this isn't you dying!"

The room rang with the sound of her quiet sobbing as the force of Clara's words settled over him. "I know," he murmured finally. "It is." He looked at her longingly, before taking one stride to reach her, clapping his hands on her shoulders. "But you, Clara. He'll have all my thoughts, my memories, every day we've had together. Maybe he'll see things with a different lens, but – everything I think about you, everything I feel…" He stopped. "Everything," he repeated, the word inexplicably sad.

Clara shook her head in disbelief. "Everything, Doctor?" She threw up her hands in exasperation. "And what is that, exactly?"

The Doctor's smile was bitter. "Ohh, I'm a coward." His voice was barely above a whisper, as if the truth of it could be more easily denied that way. "That won't change." He sighed shakily. "But perhaps he'll have more courage than I…" He moved his hands to her face again. "So that he doesn't wait…" He took a breath, chuckling ruefully. "Until it's nearly too late…" He looked directly into her eyes. "To do this."

He kissed her then, pressing his lips to hers with a ferocity and desperation they both immediately felt. Their lips worked over each other and tongues crashed together, yearning for yet more contact. He tangled his fingers in her hair, sweeping his other hand across her shoulder and down her back, before curling round her waist, pulling her flush against him. She wound her arms round his neck, melting into him. They both seemed determined to meld into one being, one body, so nothing could tear them asunder.

The kiss intensified, and he walked them backwards to the railing, leaning his back against it. Their hands roamed everywhere now, their heavy breathing turning into soft moans, months and months of restrained passion finally set free.

All of a sudden the Doctor's body jerked, but Clara ignored it, letting out a muffled whimper as her hands stole up to his face. The second jerk was more powerful, and the Doctor tore his mouth from hers to cry out in pain, his hands grabbing the railing.

Clara looked at him wide-eyed, unwilling to ask the question that would confirm her fears.

The Doctor was breathing heavily still, though it was difficult to determine the source. He nodded slightly. "It's started."

She pressed her lips together, keeping the fresh tears at bay. "How long?" Her voice was small.

The Doctor stuck his hand out, which was starting to emit a soft golden glow. "A few minutes." He lowered himself gingerly until he was sitting at eye level with her, then grasped her hands. "So _promise_ me, Clara. Promise me you won't leave." There was urgency to his pleas now, which he conveyed through a bone-crushing squeeze of her hands.

Clara swallowed, then nodded once. "I promise." Her voice was little more than a breath. "I can't leave you, Doctor, I…" She looked at their joined hands, blinking as the tears fell once more before gazing at him, her heart in her eyes. "I love you," she whispered, like it was a confession.

Now it was the Doctor's eyes that shone. "You were the one who saved me, Clara, you…" He winced as a wave of pain hit him, but still he continued. "Not just the times you saved my life, but - you brought me back from the dead – when nothing and no one else could, you did." He paused, grappling with his emotions as an unexpected tear trickled down his face. "You made me want to live again. And then I lost you, so I chased your ghost across the universe." He smiled self-deprecatingly. "And I convinced myself I was living a ghost story. But this was never a ghost story, Clara." He brought her hands up to his lips, turning them and kissing each palm tenderly, reverently. His breathing had become laboured. "This…has always been…a love story."

Her shoulders heaved, but there was laughter in the midst of her tears. "Finally figured that out, did you?"

He laughed weakly. "You know how slow I am. But I got there, didn't I? In the end." His smile was bittersweet.

Grief and mirth warred for dominance on her face. "In the end," she repeated, grief winning at the finality of the words.

"Maybe…he'll be –" Then he convulsed, letting out an agonised cry. He gripped the railing, gritting his teeth. "I'm sorry. You need to move back. Now."

Any of Clara's protests died on her lips as the golden light in his hands started to spread, bathing him in its glow. She jumped up in alarm, backing up until she was at the console.

Every breath seemed an effort now. "Further," he gasped. "You've never actually seen this, have you?"

Clara moved behind the other side of the console. "I have, actually. "

The Doctor frowned. "Where?"

Clara gave him a watery smile. "On Gallifrey."

He was suddenly strangely calm as a peaceful look settled over his features. "Clara Oswald," he mused. "My impossible girl…"

He looked at her one last time.

"Goodbye."

And then the golden light exploded, and he was gone.

_Fin_

* * *

*A/N: So I wrote this as a way to get used to Matt Smith's departure - which, when I originally published it last week was "probable" and has now become imminent. :( I wanted to give Eleven and Clara the goodbye I wanted for them so if it's not emotionally satisfying, I can use this as my headcanon.


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